Be Your Own Pet

“Get the fuck off me!” screams a furious Jemina Pearl, as a successful stage-invader attempts to kiss her before the packed-out ULU crowd. “You do not try to fucking kiss a girl you do not know, especially when she is the lead singer of the band who are playing on stage”, she aggressively warns any other hopefuls looking for love.

It was the same story last week when Be Your Own Pet played Portsmouth, with Jemina so disenchanted by the tasteless crowd jeers of “Get your tits out!” that the whole gig was cut short. Slobbering chauvinists seem to follow the band wherever they go... and boy do they look mighty tired of it.

And that’s not the only problem. Picking bands before they’re ripe is the current Record Label trend, but even though Arctic Monkeys are currently flying high, just take a look at poor old Test Icicles to see what happens when an act are put in the spotlight before they’re ready. They get fed up, disillusioned, then they quit.

Be Your Own Pet could quite easily be next to chuck it all in. Their hormonally charged thrash punk inspires riotous scenes of crowd-surfing and stage-diving, but hiding behind her blonde locks, the previously fiery lead-singer is decidedly passive.

Sure the Clearasil-savvy crowd are living the best days of their lives as unburdened teenagers, but a certain ferocity and desire to impress has left the band’s spirit in favour of autopilot apathy.

“Bunk Trunk Skunk” is usually delivered with the brattish scream of a young girl who wants to have things her way, but tonight Jemina has nothing to prove and it’s played out flat. Since the realisation of their eponymous debut album containing apparently little substance behind the abrasive guitars and guttural vocals, tonight should be the night the band re-address the critics to show they’ve still got spark to out-charm any neighsayer.

But they’re kids, they’re only out to have fun, and to be submitted to criticism from the media in reviews such as the one you’re reading now is unfair. Guitarist Jonas stage-dives after almost every song – they just want to join in the party. The ambivalence in their performance is not because they are failing or futile or just plain terrible – it’s that their honest if unspectacular teenage party punk has been taken out of its context, placed on a pedestal for all to judge as THE NEXT BIG THING, and they’re sick of review pot-shots like this chipping them at the sides.

If Be Your Own Pet were without a record label, without the exposure, playing gigs at parties and local events where no one over 21 set foot – they’d be the best band in the world. Yet when the immediacy is removed and you’re familiarised with them through reviews, interviews, critics and opinions, the Be Your Own Pet experience ends up watered-down and unremarkable.

FUTURE GIGS

sorry, we currently have no gigs listed for this act.